


Always Is A Very Long Time

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where the Roadhouse never burnt down, Jo is alive, Sam is soulless, Castiel is fighting his civil war in Heaven and Dean’s just Dean. While on a hunt, they find themselves trapped in a decommissioned war bunker together but is there even a spirit to hunt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Is A Very Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [SPN Cinema](http://spn-cinema.livejournal.com) and is based on the psychological horror film [The Hole (2001)](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0242527/)

_Have you ever loved someone so much you didn't care what happens to yourself?_  
You just had to be with them.  
If they look at you, your heart stops.  
If you feel their breath on your skin, you just ache.  
Have you ever craved someone so much that you didn't exist anymore?  
No?  
Well, I have. 

-x-

Castiel dragged his feet along. He could have flown but his vessel would have fallen away, it just couldn’t take it anymore. It had starved, it had thirsted and it had been broken. The only thing holding it together and keeping it walking was the Angel inside. Had he been human he would have been long dead by now.

His coat blew behind him it the wind, barely on his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his tie. His shirt was open, ripped and bloodstained. The knees of his trousers were dirty, dusty, coated with more dried blood. His socks were even dirtier and in tatters from the miles he’d walked in them. He’d put his shoes down somewhere and forgotten to pick them up.

Several cars had stopped by him, offering him a lift to wherever he needed to go and begging to call emergency services. He put them under as soon as they were close enough to touch and kept walking.

When he reached where he was going, all of his energy abandoned him. His fist hit the door once before he collapsed on the doorstep.

 

_About three weeks earlier_

 

He hadn’t been there when the hunt had come up. Jo had called and told them about a friend of a friend who went to this boarding school and how something terrible had happened. Something that seemed a bit off to her. So she did some digging and found rumours of teenagers going in the bomb shelter, just like these four had done, but not staying long enough for anything to take hold. They’d all ran, the living hell scared out of them. To her that spelled a haunting.

So she’d taken a trip down to her friend, pretending it was a social call and wringing just enough information out of her, an address and a room number.

That’s when she called Dean. The address was a sanatorium and the room number was a high security one.

-x-

“She checked herself in; apparently she went into this bomb shelter with three of her friends and didn’t come out until 18 days later. Alone.” Jo raised her eyebrows and handed Dean the case file she’d put together.

“So a bunch of kids decide to play in somewhere designed to be impregnable and accidentally lock themselves in? I’m not seeing a hunt.” Sam said from across the room, earning himself a scowl from Jo.

“It wasn’t an accident though. It was locked from the inside. Then over two weeks later, everyone else is dead and she turns up at the school claiming not to remember a thing.” Jo folded her arms, daring Sam to doubt her.

“Possession?” Dean asks, looking up from the papers.

“Maybe. They gave her this psychologist and she claims the girl remembered everything and knew full well what she was doing, she said the girl was a psychopath and engineered the whole thing. She did it all because she loved this boy and wanted to make him love her back.”

“So not a hunt?” Sam said.

“The first report I came across; a student and a teacher go missing for about a week. Then the teacher turns up and claims that the boy took her hostage, that he was in love with her _and wanted to make her love him back_. Apparently they were meant to ‘check out’ together but she didn’t go through with it, took the key off his body and made a break for it.”

“Well, that would certainly get us a pissed off spirit. It’s worth looking in to.” Dean handed Jo back the case file. “Do we have any bones we can burn?”

“They never released a name for _legal reasons._. It was all hushed up by the school.”

“Well, that’s helpful. So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked, finally leaving his corner and taking a seat at the table.

“Put it to rest? It’s obviously got more than a bit of unfinished business.” Dean shrugged.

“Nothing ever happened to the police either time so I’m guessing it’s smart, it won’t show for just anyone.” Jo said, with the sinking feeling she always had when she knew she was going to be bait.

“So we go in like civilians, act like the teenagers did and hope it bites. As long as nobody has any undying, unrequited love for each other we should be safe, right guys?” Sam looked from Dean to Jo.

“So over that.” Jo said, blushing to her roots.

“Not that I wouldn’t bang you if you decided to reconsider my many offers, but no, no undying love here.”

“Nice.” Jo said sarcastically. “And that’s exactly why I never will.”

-x-

“Should we get Cas in on this?” Dean asked quietly, knowing that these days that was like suggesting the Easter bunny or the Ghostbusters should be called in for a hunt.

“You can try.” Sam said, his resigned sigh echoing Dean’s thoughts.

Dean closed his eyes and went over the case in his head, inviting Castiel to come and help them. If he could, if he wasn’t busy doing whatever it was he did these days.

Castiel didn’t come and nobody was surprised.

“Fine. We leave at dawn. Get some sleep.” Dean said with his jaw set. He still felt like every time that Castiel didn’t come when he called, he was a really saying _no, Dean, you don’t matter anymore_.

-x-

“All set?” Jo asked, pulling her nearly empty suitcase behind her, making it look like hard work. Dean had watched, baffled as she’d tossed almost all the clothes out of it and zipped it back up. 

“Just about.” Dean said, giving one last look around the Roadhouse. He couldn’t say he expected to see Castiel but he still held that last little bit of hope. He swallowed and picked up his bag.

He’d got half a dozen steps out of the door before he double-taked, noticing someone else falling into step beside him.

“Jesus, Cas, you could have come in.”

“In my experience I do not do well in establishments like that.” Castiel said.

“It’s not a...it’s just a bar.” Dean said, slightly embarrassed by the memory.

“My point still stands.”

“Right. Better late than never, Cas.”

“You said dawn. I have been waiting since dawn exactly, you were 21 minutes late.”

“We can’t all fly, sadly.” Jo said, hanging back so they could catch up and so that Sam, who was still inside could catch up with them all.

-x-

When they were all in the car, they sat quiet and still for a minute while Dean studied a map. He was driving. Jo had been nimble enough to slide into the passenger seat before anyone else had time to call shotgun. Sam and Castiel were squeezed into the back, both looking like animals in cages that were too small for them.

“A day and a half’s drive. Maybe less if we do shifts.” Dean said finally.

“What fun.” Jo said, running a hand through her hair.

“Better get started then.” Sam said, with the same air of discomfort.

-x-

After a few hours, they’d run out of small talk to make and car games to play. Jo was sat, head against the window with her sunglasses on, somehow finding a way to sleep in the bright morning light. Dean checked the mirror, his eyes drawn to Castiel’s reflection. He appeared to be staring out of the window but his eyes were far away. Dean watched how he blinked slowly, as if anchoring his mind back in his head, when he noticed he was being watched. Dean quickly averted his eyes and felt the back of his neck prickle. Castiel was staring at him now, he could feel it.

-x-

Eventually, Jo called time on Dean’s driving, claiming it was getting dangerous. Dean had driven for much longer with much less sleep but he relented, offering her the wheel.

“Yeah, because if I could drive, I’d still be cooling my ass at home and getting you guys to facilitate my hunts. Sam can drive, it’s not like he needs the sleep.” Jo said, instantly regretting it when both brothers turned to glare at her. Sam’s soul, or his lack of, was still a raw nerve.

Dean pulled over and switched places with Sam, raising his eyebrows in recognition of the small glance that Castiel spared him before returning his gaze to the window.

-x-

“Seriously Cas, what’s so interesting out there? There’s only so long you can stare at field after field before it drives you mad, trust me I know.” Dean said after a few hours; watching Castiel stare out the window was starting to drive him mad.

“What?” Castiel said distractedly, slowly pulling his gaze away from the glass.

“What are you looking at?”

“I’m not looking at anything. I’m listening. There’s still a war going on and it’s suffering from my absence.”

Dean considered making a joke about how he was sure there had to be Angels better suited to war than he was, but the troubled look on Cas’ face stopped him. “Is it that bad up there?”

“Each Angel holds as much power as one of your atomic bombs. So yes, it’s bad.” He looked away, his attention back to his brothers dying in his name. Dean couldn’t blame him for being distracted. 

-x-

Dean must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke suddenly; disorientated by his angle and the time he’s missed. It was light when he’d last been awake but now it was pitch black. From his view of the back of seat and the soft cushion tensing beneath his head, he figured at some point he must have fallen sideways and ended up sleeping with his head in Castiel’s lap. He righted himself as quickly as possible, coughed awkwardly and dared a glance at Cas. He was still staring out the window, like only seconds had passed. Dean took a deep breath and relaxed, he doubted Cas even noticed. 

“We’re here!” Jo yelled out, like a child on holiday. “Oh, you’re awake already. It’s a shame, you looked so cute sleeping.”

Dean felt his cheeks color at the look on her face, even if Castiel hadn’t noticed, the rest of the car had.

“How long was I out?” Dean said, his voice sticking in his throat from disuse.

“About 8 hours. I could never sleep like that, not without a proper bed and pillows.”

“We’re used to it.” Sam said, pulling into a clearing in some sparse woodland. Dean vaguely recognized it from the crime scene photos.

-x-

The bomb shelter was locked. The four of them were crowded around it with what little light they could coax from pocket torches and mobile phones. It was no great surprise, not only was it government property, but given its history, Dean was surprised it hadn’t been filled in with concrete, just to keep kids out.

“Can you pick it?” Jo asked, chucking Sam her own kit. 

“Probably. It might take a while; I haven’t seen a lock this old in years. And this light isn’t exactly brilliant.” Sam took a step back, looking it over again. 

“I guess we’re camping for now then.” Dean muttered and started walking towards the car, Sam and Jo following him.

There was a sharp crunching sound, like rusty metal being scraped against even rustier metal and the door came free. Everyone turned in time to see Castiel shrug and wipe his hands on his coat. He’d broken the lock.

“Or we could do that.” Dean said, shrugging in return. “I should check it out first, make sure it’s clean.”

He blinked and Castiel was gone. In another blink he was back again.

“It’s clean. Spiritually speaking.”

Sam went in first, being the tallest it was easiest for him to drop down and pull the fire escape ladder down after him. Jo went next, making Dean lower her inexplicably heavy suitcase down after her. Castiel went after her, only going down the ladder for appearances sake. Dean came down last, throwing the rest of their bags down and then following them. As he climbed down he noticed the new screws on the ladder and subsequently the crime scene photos of the last victim, skewered by the very same metal bars he was holding onto.

They spent the next hour or so making their own camps. Jo had brought an inflatable bed and a duvet, not quite as accustomed to the hunting lifestyle as she liked to think. Dean and Sam had matching plain sleeping bags; the only marked difference being their colour, Sam’s was green while Dean’s was blue. Castiel sat directly on the dusty floor, watching.

“Didn’t you bring anything?” Dean asked, rolling out his sleeping bag, aware that Castiel was watching him.

“I wasn’t aware I needed anything.” He said, without blinking.

“You’re gonna get cold.” Dean said, not sure what it was he was trying to achieve by saying it.

“I don’t get cold.” Castiel finally took his eyes of Dean, looking around him. “I’m not human.”

Of course, Dean had known that, somewhere in the back of his mind. Sometimes just looking at Cas could make him forget he really wasn’t human.

“What do you think of the hunt?” He said, changing the subject.

“It appears average. I don’t know why you felt the need to call me.”

“We didn’t _feel the need to call you_. We just wanted you here. That’s what friends are meant to do, want spend time together. Between cosmic wars.” There was silence for a beat, maybe two. “Why did you come if it was so average?”

“I came because you asked me to.” Another beat of silence. “And because I wanted to.”

-x-

Twenty four hours dragged. Nothing happened. They played word games which Sam and his Stanford education won the majority of. They played card games which Jo won, but they gave them up quickly out of exasperation at having to explain the rules over and over to Castiel. Then they climbed into their beds for the night. The cold air whipped in through the open hatch but they didn’t dare close it, just in case. Jo’s inflatable bed squeaked every time she rolled over. Dean snored. Sam made a show of closing his eyes and lying in his sleeping bag. Castiel didn’t even bother with the pretence instead choosing to sit with his back against the wall, pretending not to watch them as they slept or tried to.

Dean could have sworn he had a dream in which Castiel told him he didn’t trust Sam anymore and he admitted he didn’t either. But when he woke Castiel didn’t offer any recognition that it had been anything other than a dream.

“Well, nothing’s happened.” Sam said from his sleeping bag, eyes still shut.

“Speak quieter or you’ll break Jo’s heart. You know how proud she is she found us this.” Dean said, kicking him as he walked by him, stretching his legs. Sam opened his eyes to glare at him.

“It’s a waste of time.”

“We’ll give it until sunset. If nothing happens by then we’ll call it a day. Agreed?”

“Fine.” Sam nodded and closed his eyes again, like the whole conversation had never happened.

“Cas?” Dean turned to the him, for some reason seeking his approval.

“It’s of little concern to me how long we stay.”

“I thought you had a war to get back to.”

There was a long silence before Castiel spoke. “I’ve found the longer I’m away from it, the less I care.”

“Well, that’s reassuring for mankind.”

“Why should I care anymore, Dean?” He stared at Dean, unblinking and Dean had to look away because he didn’t have an answer for that.

-x-

It was still pretty early in the day when Dean took out a flask of whiskey. Everyone shared it, except Castiel who still wouldn’t touch it. There wasn’t enough in it for them to get drunk but it made the day pass a bit more comfortably. It made the word games a bit dirtier. They barely noticed when Castiel returned to his spot against the wall. He’d rather watch than join in. 

-x-

Darkness fell and still nothing happened. Sam kept side-eying Dean, waiting for him to live up to his promise. Eventually he broke.

“Jo... nothing seems to be going down here.” Dean collected up the cards they’d been playing with.

“Give it time.” She took the pack off him and started shuffling.

“Don’t you think we should just give it up?”

“How many hunts have you given up, Dean?” She glanced up at him as she dealt the cards, knowing she’d stumped him.

“Dean.” Sam prompted again.

“I know but she’s got me there Sam, how many hunts have we bailed on?”

“If you want to sleep in filth and be beaten at cards, I don’t see why we can’t do that back in the motel.”

“Fine, we’ll go! I’m sorry, Jo.”

Jo opened her mouth to protest but was silenced by a loud crashing noise. At first it wasn’t obvious what it had been, with the setting of the dun all the torches had come out so nobody missed the light and you only notice a breeze when it’s biting at your skin. So at first everyone looked to Castiel.

“Was that you?” Dean asked, raising him eyebrows.

Castiel shook his head, not trusting himself to lie. It had seemed like the only thing he could do to stop them fighting. And to stop them leaving. He’d slammed the hatch shut; the barest flexing of his fingers, with such a force nobody human would be able to lift it. He could, of course, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to go back to Heaven, not yet. He wanted to stay with Dean just a little bit longer.

“Guys, I’m having a really bad thought.” Jo said, biting her lip. 

“What?” Sam asked, in a tone that said he had already had the same thought.

Jo tilted her torch up until it hit the place where they should have been able to see the night sky. All they saw was more metal.

They all swore in unison, using different words. Castiel was still silent. He promised them, silently, it wouldn’t be for long. It wouldn’t be as bad as they thought it was going to be. He’d look after them.

“I guess that means we’re staying.” Sam said, slightly bitterly.

“I guess that’s one point for _Jo was right_.” Jo said, pulling a face.

Dean rolled his eyes; he was more concerned about more important things. Like food and water and air.

“At least now we know we’ve got a spirit.” Dean said after examining the locked hatch. 

“Is there any point in salting it?” Sam asked.

“No, it’s iron. Everything is. It’s not getting out any more than we are. No wonder it’s pissed, it’s pretty much trapped all the time.”

“Until we opened the door and let ourselves in.” Sam gave Jo a look and she sighed, tired of being the scapegoat.

“Let’s just sit down and come up with a plan.” Dean said, sitting down beside Castiel because he was the only one already sat.

About fifteen minutes passed before any of them spoke, and when someone did it was Castiel, taking everyone by surprise.

“What is wrong with the original plan? We lure it out and convince it to move on. Or I force it to move on.”

“I don’t see why that wouldn’t work. All that’s changed is our option to bail.” Dean said. “Hold on, you weren’t there when we came up with that plan.” He turned to Cas and raised his eyebrows.

“I like to keep an eye.”

“That’s kind of creepy, Cas.”

“It’s saved your life on more than one occasion.”

“Oh. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

They turned back to Sam and Jo and Dean nods. “That’s the plan then.”

Another few minutes past before Jo stood up and dragged her suitcase back to the group.

“Now that we know it is this spirit and we know its M.O, I suggest we start putting on a show.” She opened her suitcase to reveal, buried amongst a sparse amount of clothes and food, several liquor bottles.

Dean leaned over and pulled out a bottle of Jack and a black lacy bra. “What kind of show is it and where can I buy tickets?”

“That is not for show.” She said snatching the bra off him. “The show is we all start acting like we want nothing more in life than to get pissed and get laid.”

“That _is_ all Dean wants in life.” Sam said turning to Dean and smiling.

“That’s not true!” Dean said indignantly before pausing. “I also like pie.”

“I do apologise.”

“Moving on.” Jo said, tapping the suitcase with her foot to draw everyone’s attention back to it. “Everyone pick a bottle.”

She sat down and lifted out a bottle of vodka for herself. Dean kept his bottle of Jack and Sam took another. Castiel glared at the contents of the suitcase.

“You too, Cas. We’ve gotta make it look convincing.” She handed him a bottle and unscrewed the cap of her own. “Down the hatch.”

-x-

After a while drinking for the sake of it got boring so Jo gave them each a shot glass. 

“Does your mom know you’ve taken half the bar with you?” Sam asked.

“She does by now. That’s something I’m not looking forward to going back to.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t called by now actually.” Dean pulled out his phone to check it.

“Yeah, me too.” Jo took out her phone too.

“No signal.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Me neither. Sam?” 

Sam checked his phone and shook his head.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

“Hmm?” Castiel brought his attention back to the group.

“Phone?” Dean prompted.

“It’s in the coat.” He still wasn’t entirely focused.

“How much have you had?” Dean asked as he leaned over him and checked his pockets, eventually finding the phone, which was dead. He checked Castiel’s bottle as he sat back down. He’d only drunk the same as the rest of them had.

“It seems to be having more of an effect than it usually does.” Castiel said, quite aware of the alcohol in his blood stream and the very little effect it was actually having. But the mild effect it was having had given light to certain ideas, ones that he probably wouldn’t have thought of without it. He wanted to be looked after for once and he wanted Dean to be the one to look after him. So he bent the truth, a mild sin compared to the ones he was expected to do these days.

“Let’s play deprivation.” Jo announced, holding up her shot glass. 

“So you’ve finally come round to my way of thinking. Go get you clothes off then.” Dean said.

“I said deprivation not depravation, Dean.” She enunciated the vowels to make her point.

“You’re no fun.”

“It’s a drinking game. Once of us says something we’ve never done, or have been _deprived of_ , and if anyone else has done whatever it is you have to take a shot.” She paused while everyone filled up their glasses. “So for example: I have never had sex with a woman. You all have to take a shot.”

“Except Cas.” Dean filled in helpfully.

“Really? My bad.” Jo said apologetically.

“But you’ve been around for like...ever?” Sam 

“He’s never had occasion, apparently.”

“I neither need nor desire carnality like humans do.” Castiel said, with a roll of his eyes. His mind reminded him of each stab of jealousy he felt whenever Dean made a pass at Jo, even though he knew by now nothing would come of it. Dean knew that too but apparently it didn’t stop him trying. Somewhere in the back of his mind he imagined pinning Dean down, hips grinding against hips and demanding why he felt the need to make him feel such vicious emotions like snakes in his stomach. But he just watched as they laughed or patted him on the head and called him adorable before doing their shots.

“So the aim is to think up things that we haven’t done but everyone else probably has in the hope of embarrassing them.” Sam said, refilling his glass. Dean did the same. Castiel glared at his full glass in contempt.

“Yep.” Jo confirmed.

“Ok. I have never had a sexual dream about anyone in this room.” Sam said, knowing full well he had Dean and Jo beaten.

Dean was the first to relent and take his shot, not clarifying who it had been.

“Like a million years ago.” Jo said, downing her shot and turning pink.

Everyone raised their eyebrows when Castiel threw his shot down his throat, not meeting any eyes.

“I thought you were above that.” Sam reminded him.

“There’s some hope for our Angel yet.” Dean laughed.

He refilled his glass in silence, letting them presume whatever it was they were falsely presuming. Which must have been that it was Jo, as she was obvious choice. He felt like downing the next shot but he left it in its glass. Alcohol was a slippery slope for him.

“I’m actually struggling to think of something I _haven’t_ done.” Dean said with a smug grin. “I’ve got one; I’ve never learned a single Latin exorcism.”

“Really, in our line of work? What do you do if you don’t happen to have them written down nearby?” Jo asked after she’d done her shot. Her mother had made her learn them while other kids were learning addition and subtraction.

“He makes me do them.” Sam said taking his shot.

“Cas?” Dean prompted; he’d seen him exorcise demons with just a few words.

“I didn’t learn them, I just _know_ them.”

“Still counts. Do the shot!” Dean stared at him until he did it.

-x-

They went round and round until they couldn’t think of anything they hadn’t done. Castiel won because he had a long list of simple human routines that he didn’t follow.

“We need a new game.” Dean said, screwing up the cap of his bottle and putting it back in the suitcase. It wasn’t empty yet but they all knew they had to be conscious at the very least in case this ghost decided it wanted to play. Castiel handed his bottle to Dean, wanting to be rid of it. 

Dean was sprawled lazily on the floor, boredom and the hard concrete floor making him move every five minutes or so. Castiel wanted to make him stay still, just to stop his eyes following him every time he moved. The alcohol had made him reckless, it always did. That’s why he stayed away from it. Just in case he said, or did, anything he’d regret. Jo was laid on her stomach, her elbows on the floor and her hands in fists with her chin resting on them. It made her cleavage almost obscene. He wanted to say something about that too. He and Sam had barely moved from their original positions, making them look oddly like a mirror image.

“Spin the bottle?” Jo suggested.

“With three guys. It’s not leaving a lot of options is it?” Sam pointed out.

“Truth or dare?” She countered.

“Jo, somewhere under all that _self-respect_ is a flirt. If you want me, you only have to ask.” Dean gave her a wink.

“Y’know, the more you ask the less chance you have.” She sat up; her actions fuelled either by vodka or by annoyance, she couldn’t really tell, and crawled over to Sam, putting on a show of kissing him. When she was done, she returned to her place, bathing in the look of indignity on Dean’s face. “You’re right, we need a new game.”

-x-

There was a walkway around where the ladder descended. Castiel had been sat on it for the last hour or so. He was considering opening the door and letting everyone out. The scene below him was too reminiscent of the war he’d left. Sam, Dean and Jo had all argued over the silly kiss that Jo had given Sam, making it much more serious than was intended. Eventually Jo snapped and kissed Dean, just to shut him up. Now they were all sat in separate corners, sulking. Every so often Dean would glare at Sam or vice versa and Castiel could tell they were still silently fighting over her. Had they been sober, they would have given in and declared that neither of them should have her but some competitive streak had kicked in for both of them. It was pissing Castiel off.

He considered what he could do, he could intervene and nobody would ever know. That was one of the upsides of being more than human. 

He could make her think more about Sam and less about Dean. He’d be doing Dean a favour really. Who knew how many hunters she’d let handle her, trying make her daddy issues disappear. That was the only reason she ever gave Dean a second glance, because he was a hunter. Making him think anymore than that was cruel. He was doing him a favour. With the amount she’d drunk and the lack of soul on Sam’s part, it was almost too easy. Like it was meant to be anyway, he’d just pushed it along a bit.

-x-

Another few hours passed, Castiel had returned t the group to watch over his handiwork and Dean had finally left them to come and sit with him. He tried not to think about how he’d only come to him because Sam and Jo weren’t paying attention to him anymore. He wasn’t listening to what they were saying, he didn’t care, but she was practically in his lap.

A few times when Dean started to look like a kicked puppy, Castiel almost told him it wasn’t real; he was just influencing their hormones and chemistry. But each time he kept his mouth shut he was eventually rewarded with sideways looks to him and Dean defiantly paying more attention to him. The alcohol had seemingly made him more comfortable flouting his own personal space rule because every so often he’d lean against him or let his fingers linger too long after a casual touch. At one point, when Dean had taken it upon himself to ‘fix’ his hair, he’d almost told him everything. It had to be the early hours of the morning by now and it was starting to show on everyone’s faces. 

“So you’re still virgin then?” Dean said, slurred from tiredness more than from drinking.

“Does it matter?” Castiel replied, remembering the last time they’d had this conversation.

“I guess not but I promised I was going to get you laid.” Dean yawned and Castiel gently pulled him down until he went from slumped against him to lying against his thigh. He either didn’t really notice or he didn’t mind. 

Castiel found himself again cursing alcohol, at the same time loving it. It made everything that much more complicated by making it more simple. Was Dean laid across him because he was too drunk to care, because he was too tired to care or because he wanted to be?

His fingers found Dean’s hair, automatically stroking it, soothing his own mind more than comforting Dean. He done it before, normally making sure Dean was completely asleep and then keeping him that way. He’d pushed his luck the other day in the car, his attention had drifted and Dean had woken up. He hadn’t said anything about it though. Did that make it ok? He wasn’t saying anything now either.

Castiel realised he was probably waiting for him to say something so he cleared his throat and pretended he was thinking about what they’d been talking about. “I’m not disappointed that it didn’t happen like that.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. The brothel was a bad move. You should have seen your face though, it was adorable.”

Castiel breath hitched and he was sure Dean had felt it. Or if he hadn’t, he was sure Dean would be able to hear the way his borrowed heart was pounding in his chest. There was silence for a while and had Castiel not been so aware of every breath Dean was taking, he might have thought him asleep. If he concentrated really hard he could hear his lungs moving and his heart beating. If he closed his eyes and tuned out everything else he could hear the blood rushing through his veins.

“How do you want it to be?”

“What?” Castiel said, Dean’s voice had brought him back to the real world with a bump. He had a moment to realise what he’d been doing wasn’t normal human behaviour before Dean spoke again.

“Your first time, how do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know. How is it meant to be?” Castiel answered honestly. For all the centuries of watching humanity, he’d never got to feel anything for himself. 

“It’s meant to be...special and magical and fireworks. Honestly though, it’s usually awkward and over embarrassingly quickly.”

“I think I prefer the fantasy of fireworks to the reality of premature ejaculation.” 

Dean laughed and Castiel felt the movement through his leg, he drew in an unnecessarily deep breath. 

“We all do, Cas.”

There was another short silence while Castiel imagined what Dean’s first time had been like. He presumed Dean was reliving it too. He wanted to ask about it but he wasn’t sure his vessel could take such brutal torture. Again Dean broke the silence.

“Once we’re through here, I’ll try and find you a nice girl, one who’s not a prostitute and you can fuck her and it’ll be magical.” 

Castiel took in the edge of bitterness in Dean’s voice and wondered if he could have imagined it. He decided he had, otherwise why would Dean keep trying to throw him at women. He pushed the boundary of dangerous hinting, just in case.

“I don’t want a nice girl.”

“You’re right, they’re boring.” Dean yawned again and this time the following silence really was because he was asleep.

Castiel pulled off Dean’s shoes then slipped his arms under his legs and around his back, lifting him as he himself stood. He walked over to Dean’s sleeping bag and kicked it open with his foot. He gave Sam and Jo a look as he set Dean down gently and Jo nodded, elbowing Sam.

“I’ll probably go to bed too.” She whispered. 

Sam didn’t say anything but he got into his sleeping bag too. When Castiel was sure they were settled he went round and systematically blew out every candle and turned off every torch. He could see perfectly in the dark but he knew Sam couldn’t. The fact that Sam didn’t sleep put him on edge, despite the fact the he himself didn’t sleep either. He sat back down against the wall, close enough that he could still watch Dean but not too close that he’d get suspicious if he woke up.

-x-

He did wake up but by the time he did the sun was high in the sky and shining through the small window in the hatch. He coughed and when he spoke, he still sounded half asleep.

“Cas, seriously? I know you don’t need to sleep but you can’t just sit there for hours on end.”

“Why not?” Castiel said, having been sat for more three hours already.

“Aren’t you bored?”

“No.”

“What about cold?”

“I don’t get cold.”

“Well, you can’t be comfortable.”

“I suppose not.” He waited for a beat and then tested another boundary. “But I have no other option.”

Dean rubbed his eyes and the flipped open the sleeping bag, it was an invitation. “Hurry up, I’m not going freeze to death while you make up your mind.”

Castiel stood, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his coat and the jacket underneath it. It was the first time he’d ever taken off this vessel’s clothes. The shirt sleeves covering his arms looked foreign, so he unbuttoned them and pushed them up to his elbows. He decided that would do and dropped to his knees, crawling until he was against Dean and then lying down flat on his back. Dean didn’t say anything or touch him or make any other hint that he knew Castiel was there other than covering them back over with the sleeping bag. 

Castiel spent the night studying every inch of Dean he could without waking him. He counted how many times his heart beat per minute, how many breaths he took. He experimented with how lightly he could brush his fingers over his skin without Dean noticing. At some point in his sleep, Dean rolled over and found Castiel’s chest. He curled into his side, fitting perfectly to it. For few hours Castiel didn’t dare breathe in case he woke him. Then suddenly he was gone again, the hard concrete of the floor making him seek comfort in a different position. After Dean had woken and left him without a word, he got up and stretched in three directions, from the tips of his fingers, to the tips of his toes, to the tips of his wings. He had the romantic notion that maybe he had slept after all.

-x-

They gathered around in a circle, sharing a breakfast of liquor and chips. Castiel declined both and sat considering his options. They didn’t have much food, or any drink, other than alchohol or the water in the taps. The more pleasant option was going to give them liver damage sooner or later if they didn’t stop drinking it. They had plenty of air, Castiel only breathed when he knew they were watching and that he could give up if necessary. He had a week, maybe two, before dehydration would become a real threat, even more so than usual because of the alcohol. Eventually he’d have to let them out. Until then the problem would be keeping them alright with being in.

They’d been in three days already. This was the fourth. They’d soon get sick of each other, tempers would fray and fights would break out. He didn’t care about that, as long as Dean was happy.

He wondered how long it would take them to ask _why he couldn’t just open the hatch, he was an Angel after all._

-x-

The day passed quietly. Sam pulled out his books, deciding that if the spirit wouldn’t come out, they would make it. Castiel almost felt sorry for him. There was nothing to call out, except him. 

Jo, of course, was hanging off of his every word. He almost felt sorry for her too but he needed her out of Dean’s way and the only way to do that was to put her in Sam’s.

Dean was going through phases of sulking, because he wasn’t being paid attention to, and lavishing his attention on Castiel to overcompensate. Which suited Cas just fine.

He noticed that every time Jo touched Sam, Dean would find some excuse to mirror the touch on him. The amount of imaginary dust that had been brushed off of him was getting unbelievable. If he’d been human, he’d have snapped by now.

He decided that night to put how deeply that habit ran to the test.

-x-

Castiel leaned back against the wall, preparing to spend the night there like he had done before. This time Dean was sober and still very much awake, he didn’t dare push his luck by being presumptuous.

He was rewarded when Dean gave him a look and nodded over to his sleeping bag. He paused for a moment, knowing that unlike last time, he was being watched. He wanted to go round and extinguish all the candles but he knew that would draw even more attention to him. He let them burn.

He paused again. The night before Dean had been fully dressed and Castiel had only undressed enough to be able to lie comfortably. But now Dean was kicking off his jeans, leaving him in only his shirt and his boxers.

He followed suit because he could feel eyes on him. Not Sam’s and Jo’s, he didn’t care what they thought. But he could feel Dean watching him. He knew Dean was waiting to see what he would do. It was almost like he’d done it on purpose. 

Again, he got to his knees, this time feeling the concrete scraping against bare skin, and crawled over to Dean, who pulled the sleeping bag across them. They laid like that, in silence, on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, being just far away from each other to not be touching but still dangerously close, until the last candle burnt away to nothing.

The next few hours were almost hard work for Castiel. Once Dean had fallen asleep, he made a vague effort to make sure he stayed asleep. Until the right moment, at least. Another proportion of his concentration went on keeping Sam open to suggestion and keeping his moral compass from interfering. Given his lack of soul, that wasn’t too difficult. Most of his thoughts went to Jo. He made her cold, made her frustrated, made her lonely. He made her think stumbling in the dark over to Sam’s bed was the best idea she’d ever had. Not that it was even her idea but she didn’t know that.

He waited until the last possible moment, until Sam’s breath was coming in pants and Jo couldn’t keep herself muted anymore. Then he woke Dean, making Dean assumed that it had been Jo’s last moan that had woken him.

“What was that?” He whispered into the darkness, gathering Castiel would always be awake.

“I imagine,” Castiel whispered back, leaning towards Dean despite the fact he didn’t really need to. “That was Jo coping with the pressure of climax, vocally.”

There was silence for a few seconds while Dean figured out what that meant. “Oh. _Great_. That’s just _great_.”

There was another few seconds of silence before Dean rolled onto his side, pressing himself up against Castiel. He didn’t know if it was intentional or not but Dean didn’t move, so Cas didn’t either.

“Is it me or has she never shown the slightest interest towards him until _now_.” Dean whispered, his breath so close it warmed Castiel’s skin.

“I don’t claim to understand human behaviour.” His hands itched to move but he kept them pinned by his sides.

“C’mon Cas, this is completely out of character for both of them.” 

Castiel almost laughed because the way Dean was leaning into him could be considered out of his character. But that was a thought he didn’t want to linger on so he dismissed it. Instead he nodded his agreement. 

“Maybe it’s...this place.” Dean said distractedly.

Castiel felt Dean’s fingertips press against his shirt before pulling away quickly like he had been shocked. Or like he had expected Cas to flinch and pull away first. When he didn’t move away, when he stayed exactly where he was, not even daring to breathe, Dean’s hands returned.

“There’s something...” He whispered, while his fingers fiddled with the buttons on Castiel’s shirt, not quite undoing them. “Unusual.”

Castiel’s restraint snapped and he pushed Dean, so he was flat on his back again, with Castiel leaning over him. His hands held Dean down; despite the fact he wasn’t struggling. Dean’s hands were still trying to get at his shirt and he let them, not really caring what he was doing. He let his vessel’s heady reaction to such friction take him over and before he’d even made the conscious decision to kiss Dean, he was already doing it and Dean was kissing him back.

Dean’s hands gave up on undoing the shirt, simply pushing it up instead so he could feel skin. Neither of them noticed the flicker of torches, neither of them heard shuffling or the muffled cursing or the small clatter of objects that preceded it. All they could hear was each other’s breathing. Castiel, whose hearing was much more acute than a humans would have heard it if his head wasn’t filled with the sound of Dean’s heart thumping, almost matching his own. Dean wouldn’t have heard a brass band at that moment, had there been one. So the little lights and sounds went unnoticed for a few more seconds.

Castiel’s hands lifted away from Dean’s chest, no longer pinning him because he was certain he didn’t need to anymore, if he ever had. He put on hand on the concrete, propping himself up. His other hand worked its way between them. He brushed his fingers over Dean’s boxers for the barest of seconds, teasing, testing his reaction. When he pushed up against his hand, Castiel took that to be all the tacit agreement he needed. He slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers, grasping Dean’s cock.

He got the tiniest glimpse of Dean’s head falling back in pleasure, exposing his neck, before he was blinded by light. For a second, he thought all the rumours about sinning had been true and he was being called back to Heaven to be punished but his eyes quickly adjusted to the light. 

It was the overhead florescent lights; they hadn’t had a reason to use them yet. He followed them down to where the switch was and saw Jo, standing there, hand still on the switch.

It was difficult to tell who looked more like a rabbit caught in headlights, him and Dean or her. Dean pushed Castiel away, trying to pull back any semblances of innocence. Castiel let himself be pushed. Jo was standing there open mouthed and if anyone had asked her, she wouldn’t have said it was because what they had been doing. It was because she could have sworn, for a split seconds when the lights flickered on, she saw the shadows of wings spread over the floor and over Dean.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She said, when she realised what she’d interrupted.

“It’s not...” Dean tried to say _it’s not what it looks like_ but he couldn’t think of any plausible explanation for what else it could have been so he trailed off.

“No, no. It’s just we...” She coughed awkwardly. “I heard...and I wasn’t sure what was going on.” She shrugged as another apology. “I’ll just...” She turned the lights back off and Dean presumed she’d gone back to Sam’s bed. Castiel saw her go back to her own but he didn’t tell Dean that. They didn’t say anything else all night.

-x-

The next morning Jo looked pale and hung over. She was, mildly, but that wasn’t all that was affecting her. Castiel had let his guard down, let his influence slip from her mind and forgot to assert it again. She was suffering from having an Angel in her head. It was comparable to going on a weeklong bender and then trying to remember what she had done and why on Earth she had thought it a good idea. Castiel could have cured her in a second, told her she was better and made her believe anything but she didn’t matter anymore, she had played her part.

Dean had left him and got dressed quickly. It wasn’t an ideal reaction to what had happened but Castiel gathered from past anecdotal evidence from Sam that it wasn’t an unusual reaction. He knew that eventually Dean would have to face him. He had stayed in their makeshift bed, not wanting to surrender the night to the dawn.

Sam was tidying, or at least pretending to. Castiel knew he didn’t sleep, just like he himself didn’t. He knew Sam had likely heard everything. Castiel wondered whether Dean had realised that yet. Either way it was starting to unnerve Castiel how much Sam saw, how keenly he observed everything for observation’s sake. Eventually he would call Cas out on how calm he was. It would become obvious how he wasn’t as passive as everyone believed. He wanted this. He was engineering this.

“I want to go home.” Jo said, she spoke barely above a whisper but it echoed in the silence.

There was a few seconds where everyone stopped, staring at her. Sam was the first to speak, the imaginary housekeeping forgotten. “But this is your hunt.”

“I don’t care.” She shook her head, as if she was trying to convince herself as well. “I mean, nothing’s happened, has it? So what’s the point?” 

Castiel closed his eyes. He wished he’d kept a tighter rein on her now.

“We got shut in. That happened.” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, but this place is iron. Let’s just shut it in and make sure nobody can ever open it again.” Jo shrugged.

“Jo, even if we wanted to,” Dean started and Castiel marked his choice of words with a smile. “We can’t go anywhere, not while that hatch is being held down.”

“Get him to open it.” Jo stood and pointed over to Castiel. He inwardly sighed; he knew this would happen, sooner or later. “That’s why we brought him, right?”

“You didn’t _bring_ me, I’m risking Heaven giving way to chaos just by being here.” He answered, his tone was threatening but he still didn’t move. He wasn’t going to until he absolutely had to.

“See, he wants to get out here too.”

Castiel inwardly kicked himself for rising to her bait. He couldn’t deny the fact as he was meant to want to serve Heaven and that meant wanting to leave. Dean looked over to him and he couldn’t bear the intensity of the questioning in his eyes so he looked away.

“I think we should stay, see this thing out.” Dean said, eyes darting between Castiel on the floor and Jo. Castiel almost turned back to face him, to thank him somehow but he knew he couldn’t.

“You do that then. I’ll find my own way back.” Jo said and in that second Castiel hated her. She knew what she was doing and he knew it too. She was playing on the fact that Dean felt responsible for her and wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She was manipulating him like a child would a parent. She would win.

“Fine. Get your stuff.” Dean said and Castiel bit his tongue to stop himself saying anything.

-x-

As soon as he was dressed, they made Castiel climb the ladder and open the hatch. Or that’s what they expected to happen. It wasn’t too difficult to fake, they were all out of immediate eyeshot and none of them could claim to know enough about what he was capable of to judge his acting. He turned the handle slightly, enough for the metal to grind and give the impression he was really trying. His mind was working, figuring out what he was going to say. He decided weakness was the easiest explanation.

“It’s not opening.” Dean called up.

“I can see that.” Castiel shouted back. He searched around for the sharpest bit of metal and cut his hands open on it, fighting his body’s automatic ability to heal. He paused for a second, twisting his wrist as he’d become accustomed to do while projecting his power. He disturbed something in the chemistry of Jo’s internal organs. She wouldn’t notice anything for a while but for a day, maybe two, they would each be battling to see which one would fail first. Everything would have been fine if she’d let Dean stay. It was her own fault.

Castiel climbed down the ladder, making it look more difficult than it was.

“I can’t move it.” He didn’t need to draw attention to his hands, in a few seconds the blood would start dripping and do it for him.

“I thought you were all super strength.” Jo said.

“Usually I am but since coming here...” He paused knowing Dean would pick up his story, back it up without even being asked.

“He’s right. I’ve felt odd since we’ve been in here.” His mind flashed back to the night before; _Maybe it’s...this place._

“I have to admit, I don’t feel right either.” Jo admitted.

“I’m fine.” Sam said, ruining the moment.

“Cas has been affected worst though. Remember the other night, he was drunker than all of us and alcohol isn’t meant to affect him.” Dean said and Castiel had to stop himself smiling. At the time he’d merely meant to make himself look suggestible but now it was working in his favour. He could get away with this. If anything, he’d be the victim.

“Are you bleeding?” San said, finally noticing the blood.

Dean’s eyes skimmed over him, looking for any damage before lifting up one of his hands, taking it in both of his.

“It must have been the hatch. I didn’t notice.” He kept his eyes down.

“Shit, Cas.” Dean dragged him over to where his bags were, making him sit on the sleeping bag. He rummaged in a bag for a minute before bringing out bandages and a flask. He reached over and took two bowls from another bag.

“Can one of you fill this with hot water?” Dean asked and Sam and Jo both nodded, taking one of the bowls to the small bathroom.

He crossed his legs and balanced the other bowl on his knee. He made Castiel hold up one hand, so it was over the bowl. Then he took Cas’ other hand and put it on his thigh, almost absently, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch.” Dean said then nodded down to the hand on his thigh. “You feel pain, you pass it on to me.” He thought for a second before adding. “Without breaking anything.”

Castiel nodded and gripped Dean’s thigh tighter, accepting the invitation. He made himself feel the white hot sting of the alcohol as it trickled out of the flask. His nails dug into the stiff material of Dean’s jeans and his mind threw him an image of his nails dragging against bare skin exactly like that. “Fuck.” He said breathlessly. He’d all but forgotten about the cuts on his hands.

“Sorry.” Dean muttered, taking the other hand and repeating the procedure. Castiel growled low in throat, it was taking all of his effort to hold himself back. He was keeping himself from healing, keeping himself from blocking his nervous system, keeping himself from all the thoughts and impulses that were rushing through him. The latter was the hardest. Dean thought it was a reaction to the pain. Castiel let him think that. By the time the water arrived, he was in control of himself again.

Dean cut a small section of bandage from the reel. He dipped it in the water and used it to clean the wounds properly. He then wrapped a bandage around each hand, covering both palms. He was an expert at this and every few seconds his skin would brush Castiel’s as he wound the material round. By the time he was finished, Castiel was completely calm again and soothed by the gentle way Dean had taken care of him. The whole charade was worth those fifteen minutes.

-x-

In the bathroom, Jo chucked the bowl in the sink, making no effort at filling it.

“What’s going on?” Jo asked Sam in a hushed whisper.

“Hey, _you_ came to me, remember?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Not that. We’ll get to that later. I mean what’s going on with your brother and Cas?”

“Search me. This is new...as far as I know.” Sam shrugged.

“It didn’t look new to me. He had his hand down Dean’s pants. It looked like pretty established territory to me!” Jo’s whispers were getting louder.

“Are you jealous?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“No!”

“You sound like you are.”

“What about Castiel suddenly being all powerless then? There’s something off about that.”

“Maybe he’s got to recharge. He’s still a man.” Sam laughed to himself, frustrating Jo more.

“Why aren’t you taking this more seriously?”

“Because it’s silly.” He steered Jo until she was pressed against the sink. “So what if he’s fucking Cas. That’s what Dean does.”

“I think something’s up.” She said distractedly as Sam kissed along her neck.

Last night this had seemed like a good idea. This morning it had seemed like the worst mistake of her life. Now she didn’t know what she thought.

“Besides, we can’t talk. It was probably you that woke them up.” He turned her so that she was facing the barely reflective mirror. Her hands automatically grasped the sink. He unbuttoned her jeans, stroking her through her panties until she came, his hand covering her mouth.

“Now we’re all back in the lead.” Sam buttoned up jeans back up and filled the bowl with warm water, giving her a minute or two to make herself look presentable again before they took it out.

-x-

They all sat around the little portable barbeque that was cooking their dinner, discussing what their newly realised imprisonment meant.

Castiel had done this at the time. He knew better than they did how long their bodies could last in these conditions. He had plenty of time left. Jo didn’t but that wasn’t based on how much air or food they had left. Not that she knew that.

The instant she swallowed her food, she felt sick. She excused herself to the bathroom and within a few seconds they heard her throw up.

“You should check on her.” Dean told Sam with a slightly accusatory look.

The instant he was out of sight, and presumably earshot, Castiel leaned over and took Dean’s plate away from him, demanding his attention.

“You appear to be avoiding me.” He stated.

“I’m not _avoiding_ you, Cas, I’m just...” He trailed of. Trapped in a hole, there was no possible excuse he could think for a single thing he was doing other than avoiding him.

“It wasn’t a question, you _are_ avoiding me. Why?” Castiel asked and when Dean didn’t answer he clarified. “That is a question.”

“I know it’s a question.” Dean gave him a mildly withering look. “I don’t know, alright? I guess I feel guilty.”

“Why?” He asked again.

Dean sighed, color rising in his cheeks. “Because you’re the most naive person I know and I took advantage of that. I think.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Jesus, Cas, can you stop with the _whys_?” Dean looked away. “Stuff happened between us and I feel responsible. Like I corrupted you or something.”

“Because I’m a virgin?”

“Because you’re an Angel.” Dean said, incredulous that he had to spell it out.

“Is that all that’s bothering you?”

“Isn’t that...what else would be bothering me?”

“I presumed you were struggling to accept the notion that you want to engage in sexual acts with someone you consider to be a friend. Or the idea that you enjoyed having another man’s hand pleasuring you was an unwelcome revelation. This is what bothers most humans.”

“Fuck.” Dean visibly swallowed. Castiel moved over to him, pushing him back until all that was keeping him off of the floor was his elbows. Castiel straddled his lap, the floor hard on his knees so he let his weight rest on Dean and Dean didn’t complain.

“So none of that bothers you?”

“No.” Dean said breathlessly, then he coughed in an attempt to make himself sound less affected than he was. “Not a damn bit.”

“It’s only the fact that you’re concerned for my purity and my grace that is stopping you from giving yourself to me entirely?”

Dean nodded. “I guess.”

“So if I were to assure that any act of love performed with you would be more akin to redemption than sinning, would that reassure you?”

“What does that mean?”

Castiel leant down so he could whisper. “It means fucking me would be the most celestial experience of your life.”

His words had their desired effect and he was on his back so fast his mind could barely keep up. Because of how Castiel had been sat before, Dean had landed naturally between his legs, keeping them spread. Dean’s mouth was on his, forming bruises he didn’t have the focus to heal. Dean’s hands were pulling at his clothes, fighting a war with his tie, loosening it further. Castiel’s hands were on Dean’s hips, angling them, pushing them down until Dean’s erection met with his own, the stiff material of his jeans rubbing against the thin material of his pants, making him curse in a language even he wouldn’t have been able to indentify at that moment. He held Dean’s hips tighter, rising to meet them, wriggling underneath him, creating friction every way he could.

There was a loud cough and Dean looked around. Castiel could see Sam over his shoulder and by the look on his face he’d been stood there unnoticed for a while.

“Something’s wrong with Jo.” He finally said.

Dean gave Castiel a last look, one that said _if we ever get a moment alone, we’ll finish this_. He got up and followed Sam, leaving Castiel on the floor, trying to catch a breath he couldn’t convince himself he didn’t need.

-x-

When Dean saw Jo, he decided while there was something wrong with her, it was only a bad hangover, a delayed effect of a few days hard drinking. When he told her that she stuck her middle finger up at him and mumbled something that sounded slightly like “Fuck off.”

“She’s best left to get it out of her system and sleep it off.” Dean said once out of her earshot. “You didn’t knock her up did you?” He added as a joke.

Sam replied with something that was very clearly “Fuck off.”

-x-

The last few hours of light was spent with Sam holding back Jo’s hair and Dean filling up water bottles for her to drink. It was a pointless exercise seeing as the instant she swallowed it, it forced its way back out of her. Occasionally Sam and Dean would swap jobs in order to either stretch or rest their legs.

When darkness fell they offered to drag her bed into the bathroom but Jo shook her head and said she could find her way around with a torch, if necessary.

As Castiel crawled into the sleeping bag next to him, still half dressed, he selfishly wished she’d taken them up on their offer because Sam would have volunteered to stay with her and he and Castiel would have had a few moments to themselves. He had to settle for Cas curled against him, drawing patterns onto his bare chest until he fell asleep.

A few hours later he was woken by a hand over his mouth and a whisper in his ear. “They’re gone.” His other hand strayed down to Dean’s cock, stroking it to hardness and making sure he wasn’t going to fall back asleep.

Castiel looked Dean over and realised that in the darkness Dean’s human eyes couldn’t see him so he whispered again. “Are you awake? Can I take away my hand?”

“It depends which hand you’re talking about.” Dean muttered against his fingers. Castiel smiled and removed his hand from Dean’s mouth, replacing it with his lips. 

When Dean needed to breathe, he moved his kisses along his jaw, down his neck, over his chest. His other hand left Dean’s cock so that he could support himself as he worked his way down. Eventually the sleeping bag stood in his way and he had to dip under. In the darkness of the sleeping bag and in this close proximity even his eyes couldn’t keep up with what he was pressing his mouth against. It was only when he trailed over a hip bone he knew where he was going. He pulled Dean’s underwear down just far enough to free his cock.

“What if they come back?” Dean asked in a loud whisper.

“Honestly? I’m past caring.” Castiel said, one hand keeping him balanced and Dean still while the other was on his cock, acting as a guide for his mouth. As soon as his lips touched the head, all future protests were instantly forgotten.

Despite his naive appearance Castiel knew what he was doing. He circled his tongue over the head while his hand steadily worked the shaft. In the distance, he heard Dean’s fingernails scrape over concrete where he was used to having sheets. He pulled his mouth away, not wanting to waste what was possibly their only opportunity for a while. 

“Have you done anything like this before?” Castiel asked, his head returning from under the sleeping bag.

“Not exactly.” Dean didn’t feel the need to elaborate that his somewhat forced gender experimentation that night a long time ago had gone quite a bit further than the pink panties.

Castiel considered relenting his high ground, letting Dean fuck him but he decided they didn’t have the time to talk him through it. There’d always be next time. When they got out of here, Castiel planned on spending a considerable amount of time exploring every possible _next time_. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Wait, you’ve done this before?”

“No. I just happened to live through the Greeks. And to a lesser extent the Romans. And we were all around for the war at Troy, just in case things went badly.”

“Right.” Dean replied, more confused than before he’d asked.

Dean was vaguely aware of the sleeping bag being pulled away entirely then feeling something cold and wet before Castiel inserted a finger inside him. Castiel was thankful he didn’t ask what he was using for lube because his only answer would have been _I lied, I’m fully functional as an Angel and I willed it into existence in what humans would call a minor miracle._ Luckily Dean didn’t even think about it. He was too busy adjusting to the burn of Castiel opening him up. When Castiel found his prostate and pressed against it, he couldn’t think at all.

Soon one finger became two, and then three just to be on the safe side. Castiel kept one eye on Dean, who was shuddering beautifully on the floor, the mixture of pleasure and pain making him forget every other sensation in the world, and the other eye on the bathroom door.

When Dean threatened to come from Castiel’s fingers alone, he withdrew them and pushed down his own underwear. He picked up Dean’s hips and pulled him half onto his lap. He entered him slowly, kneeling gradually, letting Dean get used to both burns, his tightness adjusting around Castiel’s cock and the higher angle his legs had to be at. Castiel knew that even as a hunter, Dean wasn’t exactly flexible. 

He set a slow pace, still mildly aware they were on limited time but more concerned for Dean’s pleasure than his vessel’s and by proxy his own. He knew this would only end one of two ways, either with Dean coming or them being caught. He tried to angle his hips to recreate what he’d been doing with his fingers and placed a hand on Dean’s cock in case he couldn’t.

He was so immersed in Dean that he didn’t notice his own orgasm sneaking up on him. His vessel had been set on edge for days and it hadn’t been sated since Castiel took control of it and it had decided it was taking this moment for itself.

When it released its hold on him and gave him back control over himself, he apologized to Dean and pulled out. He shuffled backwards and replaced his lax hand with his mouth, working hard and fast until Dean was coming, Castiel willingly swallowing around him.

Castiel led back beside Dean pulling the sleeping bag over them as best he could. He didn’t think they’d been caught but in all honesty, Sam and Jo could have turned the overhead lights on and he wouldn’t have noticed. As it was the overhead lights would never work again.

That night it didn’t matter that one of them wasn’t human, they both slept like they were.

-x-

The next morning things spiralled out of control.

Castiel had woken up happy. As had Dean. They both had a moment of quiet realisation that if they wanted, they could wake up like this every morning.

It only lasted a few moments because they soon came to the conclusion they had been woken up by Sam.

“It’s Jo.” He paused dramatically, or what seemed dramatically to Castiel. “Dean, she’s dead.”

“Fuck!” He swore honestly. It wasn’t that he regretted his actions as such, he’d just forgotten them entirely.

Dean just stared at him disbelievingly.

It was true, obviously. But even when he was led over to her dead body in the bathroom, blood in a puddle around her mouth where it had dripped out, he still didn’t believe it.

“But she was fine. I mean she was sick but...” Dean trailed off. “Cas?” He looked at Castiel for some divine explanation of her death.

“I don’t know. Could have been supernatural or it could just have been...natural. I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re not properly powered up. It was stupid to ask.”

They held her a small funeral. They couldn’t give her a proper hunter’s cremation because they were indoors so instead they carried her up to the walkway and placed her by the hatch. Castiel wasn’t sure if they were trying to offer her up as some belated sacrifice in a bid for freedom or if they were admonishing the spirit by saying _look what you’ve done_.

Of course there wasn’t a spirit and he could see what he’d done quite clearly. He reassured himself by telling himself Dean would get over it sooner or later. Sam glared at him from across the room. He might take longer.

-x-

They all sat quietly for several hours. Sam sat on his own and Dean laid across the floor, his head in Castiel’s lap with Cas stroking his hair. It was a gesture that had evolved quickly and Castiel deemed it as the best perk of starting a physical relationship with Dean. There was something unexplainably soothing in the tactility and the repetitiveness of stroking someone’s hair. That’s why humans liked keeping pets.

There was a moment when the air seemed to grow thicker than chemically possible and every cell in him could sense a confrontation coming. All he could do was brace himself for it.

“This is your fault.” There wasn’t much feeling in the words and it sounded like Sam was only saying them because Jo had inferred something similar before.

“How is it his fault?” Dean said instantly.

“He broke the lock, getting in.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, now we can’t get out. If we’d gone when she wanted to she’d still be alive.”

“That’s not his fault and you know it.”

It made Castiel’s skin crawl to hear them talk about him, and for him, like he wasn’t there. He suspected it was because Sam was right and Dean was putting his faith in him and he was lying.

“Why couldn’t he do anything!” Sam shouted suddenly, getting to his feet, pointing at Castiel like he was on trial.

“He tried!” Dean got up to match him.

“And why is that? Does fucking you somehow take away all Angelic powers? Because we sure as shit could have done with knowing that while we were fighting Lucifer. All we would have needed is for you to bend over and bang, no more apocalypse!”

Dean launched himself at Sam, meaning to drive him back against the wall lie he’d done more times that he could count. But something in Castiel’s control broke and his powers struck out, taking what Dean had started and finishing it. Sam’s head snapped back against the concrete wall too hard and he was dead before the blood started pouring.

Dean kneeled over Sam’s lifeless body, caught somewhere between crying and shouting. He’d thought he’d done it. Castiel crouched beside him, he tilted Dean’s head until it was on his shoulder and then he kissed the top of it, knocking him unconscious.

-x-

He laid Dean in his sleeping bag, in case he woke up early. In theory he shouldn’t wake up until Castiel woke him up, somewhat like a twisted version of sleeping beauty, but he’d never tested it over a long distance before. He looked over Dean’s body. He still had two or three days before dehydration would get him. Even if it did, he could just bring him back to life again when he got back.

He dragged Sam’s body and put it head to toe with Jo’s. He stared down at them in contempt. They had fucked everything up for him.

He picked up his coat on the way to the hatch. He couldn’t remember where he’d put his shoes and God knows what Dean had done with his tie. There was dirt ingrained into the knees of his trousers from kneeling and crawling over concrete too much. The blood smeared over that was a recent addition. His shirt was open from where Dean had accidentally ripped it open last night.

He took a deep breath and wrenched open the hatch. It was harder than it should of been but not as hard as he pretended a few days ago. He was getting weaker, that was all. He needed a top up. He needed a soul.

He took one last at Dean, sleeping directly in the beam of brilliant sunlight. Even he couldn’t pretend it was natural. “I’ll be back soon. Then I’ll fix all this. I promise.” He didn’t see the point in kissing him goodbye, he wouldn’t feel it. He wouldn’t hear the words either but they were more for his own benefit anyway. He’d come back, stronger, and bring back Sam and Jo, wipe this from all of their memories. He’d start fresh, try again. Sooner or later Dean would have to love him. Until he did, he’d just keep trying.

He turned off everything that made his vessel more than human. Hunger would catch up with him. So would thirst. So would exhaustion. It would all make whatever story he had yet to think up believable when he turned up alone and helpless on Bobby’s doorstep, begging for his soul.

He started walking.


End file.
